World Where You Live
by breeutiful
Summary: Series of prompts, courtesy of Saga.
1. Long Lost

Competition Theme: Long Lost

Pairings: Lucy/Percy. Father/Daughter love. The love they never had.

Genre: Family, Angst.

Authors Note: The challenge took me all day (from this morning to night) to do but I finished it once I got home. I thought it was a good challenge, but I found it difficult with the dialogue (I'm not a dialogue person). Despite this, I vastly enjoyed writing this piece. Hope you like, and please read + review! :)

* * *

He comes home an hour late from work, with his horn-rimmed glasses askew, his fiery red hair mussed, and cerulean eyes blazing with a hidden passion. All over he smells like the sweet essence of lavender perfume.

Lucy knows how her mother and older sister pretend that they don't notice, that they don't care. They pointedly ignore the smudge of scarlet lipstick that lay on his collarbone, and how his prim oxford shirt isn't buttoned correctly.

She curls up in the armchair with a worn book in her hands as she hears her father apparate near the front door, and looks up to see the pain flicker through her mothers eyes when her father walks through the door and doesn't even bother to give an excuse - a lie - about why he's late.

And sometimes she hears her mum sobbing about her parents broken marriage, about how he's shagging his secretary who is twenty years younger than herself, and doesn't look her in the eyes anymore.

What happened to her father who used to read her to sleep, who used to bury himself in work, and actually pay attention to his children? She remembers the rare good times where he used to go out in the backyard with her on a sunshine-filled day and play aeroplanes, and horsies, and piggybacks.

And so she decides to confront him, to ask him about why he's estranging himself. She wants to know, even if no-one talks about it.

* * *

It's a chilly, winter night and Lucy stays awake for her father - besides breakfast, it's the only time she sees him. She has a blanket wrapped around her in the fashion of a cocoon, an aged book in her hands and a cup of hot chocolate on the table next to her, resting on a coaster.

She waits and waits, reads page after page, checks the time again and again until it finally chimes to signal that it's eleven o'clock.

Her older sister Molly and her mother are already tucked away in bed, and she can hear the faint snoring and mumbling above her in the house. They only live in a house big enough for the four of them with three bedrooms, one bathroom and a cramped kitchen - despite being able to live in better circumstances if they wished.

At three past eleven does her father walk through the door, looking too old for his age and out of order - a very peculiar thing for Mr Percy Weasley. He hangs his coat up, cleans his glasses and then finally turns around to meet the burning glare of his daughter.

"Where were you, Dad?" Lucy asks, not wanting to waste any time to get to the matter.

Percy slides the glasses up the bridge of his nose and blinks at her, before he dodged the question to ask, "What are you doing up, Lucy? It's eleven, you should be in bed."

"So should you. So what were you doing?"

"I had to work overtime. Prime Minister Shacklebolt just gave me a few more files to fill in, along with a couple of documents," Percy answers wearily.

Lucy's voice turns cold and she crosses her arms over her chest. "And he does this every night, I suspect?"

Percy reaches out to put a hand on his daughters shoulders but she jerks away. He sighs, "Don't take that tone. We're at a very difficult spot -"

"What? Is Voldemort planning to make a big, sweeping return?"

"No, but with all these attacks on the children lately, raped and murdered and tortured…" Percy trailed off, running a hand through his hair. "You don't get it."

"I'm fifteen years old, I'm old enough to! Except you still treat me like I'm still a child, a baby for Merlins sake!"

"You are," Percy looks at her with a stern expression. "Until you're seventeen years old, you'll be a child."

"And apparently not your daughter," Lucy mutters, shaking her head.

"That's not true," Percy says, taking a step towards her. "You'll always be my daughter - no matter what."

Lucy looks up, tears now in her eyes. "Since when? I haven't seen you - or spent a day with you - since I was six years old. You don't know me, you don't love me."

"Lucy… that's not true…"

And with an anguished cry, Lucy launches herself at her father and holds him dear. She sobs into his chest, and he runs his hand through her brown locks with tears running down his face. He mutters how he loves her, and how he hasn't been a good father, and she doesn't disagree to one bit of this.

Not one bit.


	2. Chocolate

Competition Theme: Chocolate

Pairings: Terry Philips/Jean Parker (two OCs)

Genre: Romance/Angst

Authors note: I started this challenge about a week ago and that it came easily enough to write, though piecing it togther was a bit of a challenge. I'm actually quite proud of this story, so hope you enjoy it! :) Some paragraphs are definitely stronger than others and there's not too much dialogue... there's about two lines, lol. But I hope it's good enough with the mentions of other characters and some definite moments on the RPG.

* * *

It was the dab of chocolate in the corner of her mouth that started it.

---

He's the Quidditch Captain, although he's only been here for a year or so now. He comes from Virginia Academy of Wizards and isn't welcomed warmly. He supposes this is because he's an Englishman raised in an American society. Stupid Brits, he thinks bitterly.

---

She's wild and not at all healthy for anyone except for Gideon Prewett. She harboured a bizarre fascination for pirates and had a penchant for coming to class in her pajamas. Her tongue was pierced, her hair was teased and now a vibrant shade of purple.

---

He flirts with her lightly, nothing too serious that would be considered more than friendly. And then it evolves into something more, like light touches of hands whilst passing one another books and a game of footsies beneath the table.

---

Soon she's taken by a silly git called Gideon Prewett, a redhead who's practically her equal. This redhead is a prankster and a twin who shares her somewhat strange habits. Gideon is the type of person who sets things on fire (or says he does) and announces Hug A Slytherin Day (but doesn't follow through).

---

His kisses are bitter like lemon drops, not sweet in the slightest. His lips are dry and the hint of stubble scratches roughly against her cheek, but she doesn't mind because it makes her feel alive. Their kisses are stolen in broom closets and late nights by the Black Lake.

---

A couple of weeks later he finds out that Jean and this Gideon bloke are an item. He finds himself predictably jealous, but doesn't voice this out loud because that would just be a moment of weakness.

---

Her fingernails gripped his wrist tight, leaving cresent-shaped indentation as they snogged in a broom closet, closely together and sharing the same body warmth. From an outsiders perspective, you couldn't tell where one leg begun, and the other one ended.

---

He embarks on a relationship with Gwenog Jones - a redheaded beater on his Quidditch team who's had her nose broken with textbooks too many times (though she deserves it).

Him and Gwen have sex for the first time after drinking firewhiskey. He finds that having sex (with Gwen) is a lot different then making love (with Jean).

---

When he tells her that Gwenog's pregnant seven weeks later, she replies she already knows. He wants to ask how and a million other question, but they all remain unspoken and forever remain on the inside of Jean's mouth.

---

Two weeks later, that stop this forbidden and unknown thing of theirs. They don't talk for three months unless they need to.

---

A month later Gwen has a miscarriage and the only person he tells is Jean.

She comforted him with chocolate, and he laughed at the irony of it. They don't talk but merely sit there underneath the willow tree. Their words are carried away with the wisps of wind that brush past them.

---

The year flies by easily and big things happen.

He breaks up with Gwen who gets with his older brother; he wins the Quidditch House Cup; gets knocked unconscious for a couple of weeks; gets an invite to join with the Dark Lord and ignores it; Gideon - the prat - and his brother gets killed.

---

He finds her in the bathroom, with mascara-streaked tears running down her face. She's a broken, fragile china doll and with one single fall she'd shatter to pieces - but he's always going be there to mend her back together again.

"Terry, please tell me it's a lie." She begs.

For a moment there he considers telling her what she wants to hear, but she needs to know the truth. "I'm sorry, Jean. So, so sorry, but he's gone. Gideon's gone."

---

They don't meet again for ten years, the sixth year of Harry Potter. At first they want hug and then they want to cry, yet they do neither because it won't do anything to held. It won't heal their pain.

---

She starts a relationship with the school counsellor, Nathan Miller and he gets involved with Kim who teaches Ancient Runes.

---

This time they're just friends and share tales of the most obscene things like how she likes doing it on tables (which he found out years before the counsellor… who probably needs counselling after Jean) and how he does it with Kim on couches.

Neither of them are game enough to touch things they know each other have done things on.

---

They catch Blaise Zabini and Jessica Black more than once. First time they caught them was in the Owlery… he's pretty sure he'll be scarred for life.

---

She convinces him to get an eyebrow piercing with those manipulative lips of hers. Get your mind out of the gutters, she does it by talking. He says he will if he can pierce her tongue. They both agree.

He forgot how much it bloody hurt to jab a needle through your tongue.

---

Side by side, they fight in their second war shooting curses out of their wands by the second. He watches her grin of triumphant when she kills the bastard Thorfinn Rowle who had killed Gideon those many years before.

Amd then he sees the green light fly towards her and makes a move to save her, do anything to stop her from being killed but he's a second too late and she's gone.

---

It hits him hard.

He sits a couple of rows down from her during the funeral with the remaining staff, watching everyone mourn her death as he does the same with tears rolling down from his eyes.

He remembers how she told him in fifth year how she didn't want anyone to cry or wear black at her funeral. And so a purple hankerchief sticks out of his pocket.

---

It was the green light that ended it.


	3. Hospital Wing

Competition Theme: Hospital Wing

Pairings: Christian Christophers/Jen Harris (non-romantic), with mentions of Charlie, Driscoll twins, Sarah, Rikki.

Genre: Friendship (I suppose)

Authors note: The challenge came fairly easy with these two OCs but I'm not positive that I got their characters right.

* * *

"Excuse you," Jen said, pushing past a student with a hard knock of her shoulder as she made her way into the hospital wing. "Hi, I'm here for my check up."

Christian turned his head and inwardly groaned when his eyes fell upon the one person he did not wish to see in his present state. He had bruises over his body and cuts against his wrists, bandages concealing them the best they could but stained with blood nonetheless.

"Christophers?"

"Harris," he greeted with a fake smile. "You here for your monthly STD check-up? You definitely should make it daily seeing as you're like a vending machine for STD's."

Jen returned his smile, filled with "sugary-goodness". "Oh, you're so sweet, Christian. Did the loony bin let out all it's patients already?"

She was good. He was better.

"Depends. Has the brothel closed early today?"

Jen rolled her eyes, crossing her arms across her chest with a disdainful expression. "What are you, like, four years old?"

"Witty."

"Wanker."

"As articulate as ever, Jen."

"Fuck you."

"No thanks, you're like the school bicycle. Everyone wants a ride, but not me. No, I prefer girls who aren't tramps."

"Least I'm enjoying my life, you seem not to be." She looked pointedly at Christian's bandages.

His demeanour grew stiff, joking tone going away as weakly as it came. "You don't know anything about that so shut your mouth."

"No? I know that you obviously hate your life - I just don't understand why." Jen lowered herself onto the bed opposite him. "You've got a great girlfriend, you're Quidditch Captain, Head Boy, a lot of friends."

Christian tensed up and looked up at the roof. "Do I? Ever since was released from hospital he's taken most of that away from me again. I hate his girlfriend, true, but most people she gets along with okay… except for the Driscoll's anyway. He's better than I am at Quidditch, so he should be captain this year. I'm better than at him in academics, he has a lot more friends then myself."

Jen reached over and put her hand gently on his bicep. "If it makes you feel any better, us quarrelling is a lot more better than fighting with him. You more fun to talk to."

"Even if you are a vapid whore, you're not completely shallow like Sarah," Christian replied, half-insulting her and half-complimenting her.

Hearing the call of her name from Madam Pompfrey's office, Jen rose from the bed and withdrew an unwrapped honeydukes chocolate from the pocket of her robes, chucking it to him. "Flowers are so cliché."

As he watched the long-legged, popular brunette walk away from his bed, Christian felt his first genuine smile cross over his lips in months.


End file.
